


sea-salt and sand

by SongOfWizardry



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caleb Widogast Needs a Hug, Caleb Widogast's Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day, Dissociation, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Warning: Trent Ikithon, and receives a hug, c2e128
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:42:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29865186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SongOfWizardry/pseuds/SongOfWizardry
Summary: a beach in Nicodranas, an hour spent attuning to the new amulets, and a moment between Caleb (who has been having a fairly continuous breakdown for the last few hours) and Veth (who stays within hugging distance).[coda to campaign 2 episode 128]
Relationships: Nott | Veth Brenatto & Caleb Widogast
Comments: 17
Kudos: 95





	sea-salt and sand

**Author's Note:**

> Liam: _Caleb is very much in shellshocked mode, similar to how he was at the beginning of the campaign in a way he hasn’t been in a long time. And he just—plants himself, next to Veth on the ground, and is just staring out at the water while he mashes his toes, scratches his toes into the sand, slowly._  
>  Sam: _I’ll just hug. Hug, or stay close to cuddling distance, for Caleb._
> 
> warnings for canon-typical trauma, specifically extended descriptions of dissociation.

The air smells like salt, and seaweed.

It smells like salt, and the setting sun to their left is dyeing the cloudless sky pink and red, and the colours are reflected in the water, and Caleb tries, _tries_ , to stare at it – the water, the warmth, the colour, the sand – and to take it all in, to remember that there are no beaches like this in the Empire, that it is not this warm in Rexxentrum, that he is not sixteen years old anymore, he is _here_ —

He tries, by all the gods his colourful friends believe in, he would swear he tries to stay _here_ and now, but—

Between one crash of a wave and the next, he is gone, echoes of Trent’s voice (real? Magical? Memory? Who knows anymore?) ringing in his mind, the sand between his toes slipping away, and he is floating, up, away, into nothingness and memory—

A splash.

It takes a lot of effort to focus on it, the sound, the sensation of water.

Slow, difficult, like dragging his mind through molasses, Caleb forces his way down, into his body. His eyes are still open, staring into the water. There is dampness on his face. Like coaxing a stubborn horse, he nudges his mind to follow the trail of cause and effect, to track where the water’s come from—ah, the splash. He blinks, slowly, focuses his eyes, and takes in the strange beast – _elemental_ , his memory supplies – swimming in the shallows. He thinks the creature looks up at him, with knowing blue-green eyes, and splashes one of its wings again.

This time, he feels the water land on his face.

 _That’s an improvement,_ he thinks, distantly.

He raises one hand to wipe away the water. He thinks his hands might be shaking. He runs his hand across one cheek, then the other, and his fingers come away damp and stained with blood and dirt and gods know what else.

He lowers his hand, slow and careful. The elemental flips over in the water, sending up a spray of droplets. Caleb feels his cheeks grow damp again, and this time, he is present enough to notice it, to know where it’s coming from—he’s crying.

Ah. That makes sense, doesn’t it.

He can feel the tears gathering, now, dripping down his nose, coming faster.

He should wipe them away.

He should stop crying.

He should never – _can_ never – stop crying, not ever again.

It tastes like salt.

“Caleb?” A pause, and then, quieter, “Caleb? You there?”

Veth. Of course. Now Caleb can feel the pressure, tentative but there, of a hand on his arm. He opens his eyes. (He doesn’t remember closing them.)

Ah. There are still tears dripping off his nose, into his beard. A mess. He’s probably worrying her, he realises. He should stop, should look at her, should apologise for all this, should—

He opens his mouth, but the only thing he manages is, “Ja?”

“There you are,” Veth says, and there’s this… gods, this _fondness_ in her voice, that he simultaneously wants to cringe away from and bask in. The world does not deserve Veth the Brave. He most certainly does not.

Veth is still talking, he realises, and he has to make himself listen, catches, “–and we’re all fine, okay? You’re fine, you’re good, you’re safe now.”

He is _not_ , not good, or safe, but he can’t bring himself to argue, and Veth is still saying things, and Caleb realises that at some point her arm has wound its way around her back, and she is pulling him into her, closer.

Caleb closes his eyes, and lets her, until their sides are pressed together.

They stay like that for a few moments, and Caleb lets the dual sensations of Veth’s voice and Veth’s side pressed against him keep him here, as much as he can. After a while, his head begins to feel heavy, and slowly, he lowers it, until his forehead is resting on his knees.

He’s _still_ fucking crying, he realises. He considers trying to stop, and quickly abandons that idea. He hopes Veth isn’t worrying too much.

Veth’s voice helps. It Is harder to think every echo in his ears, every rush of breath in his chest, is Trent’s voice, when he can _feel_ Veth, warm against him, hear her talking. It is easier to stay.

Still, it takes many moments of effort before he thinks he can move (he catalogues, as he waits, the feel of damp cloth against his face, the sound of the waves, the bursts of his other friends’ voices) and finally, he turns his head, sideways, to look at Veth.

She stops, mid-sentence, catching the movement. “There you are,” she says, and there’s this brittle cheeriness in her voice. She has always been a _terrible_ liar, Caleb thinks, with a sudden burst of warmth.

“I am sorry,” he says, and tries not to hear how wrecked his own voice sounds. “I—thank you. Veth. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, hush,” she says, and she reaches up, one hand coming to rest on his own cheek. “This is, I don’t know, the fourth time you’ve said sorry since we got out of there, it’s fine, you’re—” She pauses, and then shakes her head, gives his cheek a firm pat. “You’re fine, Lebby. No need for that, okay?”

Once again, Caleb considers how untrue that is, and once again, decides he’s not going to argue with Veth. “Ja, okay,” he says, and it feels like the few words have drained all the energy out of him, and he closes his eyes again.

Veth’s hand moves away from his cheek, and she presses close to him once more, and Caleb takes in one breath, two, loses count, starts again.

 _I think I have forgotten how to count_ , he thinks, again.

“Caleb?”

“Hmm?” he manages.

“Is the—shall I keep doing this? Hugging you?”

He opens his eyes at that, looks – _actually_ looks – at Veth’s face, for the first time since he sat down here. She’s watching him, the lines of her tattoos glowing in the light, there is this furrow of worry between her brows, and this softness in her eyes. _Fondness_ , he thinks, again. Gods. He’s fairly certain Veth’s proximity is the only thing tying him to this plane of existence right now, but he can’t quite say that, so instead, he says, “Yes. Please.”

Her face softens further, and he shuts his eyes again, because he doesn’t quite know what to do with all that emotion.

“Okay, Caleb,” she says, and her arm presses tighter around him, pulls him impossibly closer. “That’s fine. I’m here. You’re fine. I’m right here.”

That last part, at least, Caleb doesn’t think he can argue with. And the rest—well. He’ll argue that later. Time for that later.

For now, he presses into Veth’s side, and breathes in the sea-salty air, and realises he can finally feel the sand between his toes.

**Author's Note:**

> I slightly melted at that interaction between Caleb & Veth, and as soon as I heart it I had to write something. also, with the way the rest of that episode went, I think Caleb just... needs a moment to have like. a bit of a break, right? a small breakdown? just before everything goes to shit again and he's faced with *even more* of his demons. he really isn't having a good day huh. 
> 
> you can find me yelling about critical role and various other things on [tumblr.](https://songofwizardry.tumblr.com/)


End file.
